


The Warning Signs

by camwolfe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:03:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6061444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camwolfe/pseuds/camwolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are you going to do if he never wakes up?" </p><p>Bucky stared down at the table. "I don't know."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [The Warning Signs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312430) by [Sinitsyna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinitsyna/pseuds/Sinitsyna)



> This is me finally making my way through the rest of those prompts that I promised that I'd fill ages ago and... never did. We're getting there. 
> 
> Also, this fic is DONE and FINISHED but the rest of it isn't edited yet so I'm still gonna have to post it in parts. 
> 
> This is based off of this ask: "Oh god I think ur gonna regret asking for prompts cus there are so many I'd like to see u write cus I love how u write! How about an au where one of them is in a coma or something of the sort??" 
> 
> Your wish is my command. 
> 
> Warnings for alcohol use, drunkenness, and medical stuff.

“Morning, Steve,” Bucky said. He let the door swing shut behind him and headed over to the windows, opening the blinds. The sun spilled into the room, brightening it up immediately. “I’m early today, I know, but Nat’s having a dinner party tonight. I probably won’t have time to stop by after work, so I thought I’d come now.” 

Steve, of course, did not say anything. 

Bucky sat down in his favourite chair and kicked his feet up, resting them on the side of Steve’s bed. “I’ll pick a good show for you before I go, don’t worry. What do you feel like today?” 

Bucky turned on the tv and started flipping through the channels. The screen on the television was fuzzy and damaged in one corner, not that it mattered. Steve couldn’t see it. 

“How about… some more nature documentaries?” Bucky asked. “Here, there’s one about penguins. You’re gonna be a penguin expert when you wake up.” 

Steve breathed in and out. 

“It’s a nice change from those crime documentaries,” Bucky mused. “Those were getting kind of depressing.” 

Steve’s fingers twitched, and Bucky’s heart leapt, just like it always did. He waited, but Steve’s hand stilled. 

“You gotta stop doing that to me, man,” Bucky said. “You’re giving me a heart attack every time.” 

Steve breathed in and out. 

“It’s just a reflex,” Bucky said, in a poor imitation of Steve’s doctor. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

Steve breathed in. 

Bucky waited, but Steve’s hand didn’t move again. 

“Your hair’s getting kinda long,” Bucky said. He leaned forward and brushed the strands off Steve’s forehead. “You’re gonna call me a hypocrite when you wake up and see what mine looks like, but still. I’ll get someone to come in and cut it for you, alright? I mean, I could try and do it myself, but I’ll spare you and just pay someone to do it.” 

His phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? And I’ll make sure they don’t change the channel on you again.” 

Steve breathed out. He breathed in. 

Bucky sighed and got up. He tugged Steve’s blankets up, in case he was cold, and then hid the television remote in a drawer so that the nurses would have a hard time finding it. 

He headed out into the hallway, nearly running into Sharon as he did so. 

“Morning, Carter,” he said, neatly ducking around her. 

“Morning,” she mumbled back, clutching her coffee cup for dear life. 

“Good morning, Lucy,” he called to the morning nurse as he passed her desk. She waved a hand at him without looking up from her computer. 

Bucky headed out of the building and out into the sunshine. 

Bucky’s workday was not good, to say the least. His boss snapped at him for filling out a form incorrectly, Bucky said something snarky back, and that kind of set the tone for the rest of the day. 

Dinner wasn’t any better. He’d thought that it was just going to be him, Nat, and maybe her boyfriend, but no, Nat had invited people from work, too. 

“You lied,” he hissed as she tugged him inside the apartment. “There’s so many people here!” 

“They invited themselves,” she muttered back. “It kind of spiraled.” 

Bucky groaned, and tried to turn back towards the door. 

“It’ll be good for you,” Nat said, resolutely tugging his coat off. “You need to hang out with people who aren’t nurses or physiotherapists or coma patients.” 

“Rude,” Bucky said, but let her drag him into the kitchen. 

Dinner was a disaster. 

“I just think it’s ridiculous to continuously be giving veterans this kind of support!” one of them said earnestly, gesturing wildly as she did so. “There’s already so much money being poured into it - “ 

Bucky reached for the bottle of wine sitting in the middle of the table and poured himself a nice big glass. It was his third. Or fourth. Whatever. 

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. He narrowed his back, and then pointedly drank half his glass in one go. 

“Sally,” Natasha said, taking a sip from her own wine glass, “shut up.” 

The woman, Sally, gasped and looked to the man sitting beside her for help. He was staring morosely into his chicken.

Bucky took another big drink. 

“This is what I get from trying to be friendly and an adult,” Natasha muttered as she walked Bucky out of her building. “That’s the last time I invite her over. Or talk to her at all.” 

“The food was good,” Bucky offered. He had his arm out against the wall as he walked, mostly because the world was lurching around him. 

“I had it catered.” 

Bucky laughed. “I knew it. Clint owes me five bucks.” 

Natasha sighed and held the door open for him so that he could stumble outside. 

“You’re going home, right?” she called, wrapping her sweater more tightly around her. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said as he started off down the street. 

“Bucky!” 

“I’m goin’ home,” he shouted, and then resolutely turned the corner. 

To his credit, he made it halfway home before he flagged down a taxi. 

Visiting hours ended at eight, but the night nurses all knew him. He waved at them as he walked past, trying to make sure he didn’t stumble. They didn’t say anything, so he must have passed inspection. 

He struggled with the door to Steve’s room for a few minutes, and then nearly fell inside when he finally got it open. 

“Hey,” he said, stumbling to his feet again. “I’m back.” 

Steve breathed in. 

“Aw, no, they turned the tv off,” Bucky said as he made his way to his chair. “That’s, that’s my bad, I didn’t hide the remote well enough.” 

Steve breathed out. 

“You’re probably mentally frowning in disapproval or some shit,” Bucky mumbled as he dropped into his chair. He let his head loll back against the seat. “But, whatever. You didn’t have to listen to this idiot talk her mouth off tonight.” 

Bucky rolled his head to look at Steve. His face was as blank and expressionless as it always was. 

“Hey,” Bucky said. “Steve.” 

Nothing. 

Bucky groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “What the fuck am I doing?” 

Steve’s foot twitched, and Bucky slumped down in his seat even more. 

“I know you probably can’t even hear me,” Bucky said. “You knew what I heard Dorothy saying the other day? ‘That poor boy, I think he’s just lonely. That’s why he visits so often.’ Well fuck you, Dorothy, that’s not why. I’m not lonely.” 

He was, but that was a topic for another day. 

“I shouldn’t have gotten the two bedroom place,” Bucky said. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, right? That way you’d have somewhere to go when you woke up. But instead it’s just… me, sitting in this too-big apartment all day by myself.” 

Steve breathed in and out. 

Bucky stared at him, and then scrubbed at his eyes when they started to water. “Fuck.” 

Bucky gave up on consciousness and curled up in his chair as best he could. 

“I’ll see you in the mornin,” he mumbled. 

When he opened his eyes again, Sharon was standing over him with her arms crossed. 

He tried for a smile. “Morning?” 

She glared at him and strode over to the blinds. 

“Don’t,” Bucky warned. “Don’t you - “ 

She yanked on the chain and all of them opened at once. Bucky moaned as the light hit his poor hungover brain. 

“Why are you like this,” he mumbled, throwing his arm over his face. 

“You can’t come in here drunk,” she snapped. “That’s absolutely unacceptable.”

Bucky groaned and curled in on himself. 

“Don’t make me rescind your privileges here,” Sharon threatened. “I’ll tell the night nurses not to let you in if I have to.” 

“Why?” Bucky asked, trying to open his eyes against the light. “I’m not hurting anyone.” 

“It sets a precedent!” Sharon said. “Yeah, I know you’re just going to come in here and pass out in that chair after probably crying for a few hours – “ 

“Rude,” Bucky said. 

“But I can’t have the other families thinking they can do that,” Sharon continued. “I’m going to text Sam.” 

“No,” Bucky said, scrambling forward. “Sharon, no!” 

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, dancing backward out of Buck’s reach. 

“Hi Sam,” she narrated as she typed. “Do you have time this week for an appointment with Bucky? He needs it.” 

“Sharon!” Bucky whined. His stomach rolled and he collapsed back into his chair. 

“Oh, look,” Sharon said, smiling at her phone. “He has time today! Perfect. He’ll meet you at the café at twelve.”

“Sharon to room fourteen, please,” the paging system said pleasantly. “Sharon to room fourteen.” 

“Have a nice time with Sam,” Sharon said as she hurried out of the room. Bucky groaned. 

“I hate her,” he said miserably to Steve. Steve didn’t do anything. 

He dragged himself home, took a shower, chugged half a water bottle, and then headed back to the care facility. He hoped that he looked marginally more alive than he had this morning. 

He obviously didn’t succeed, because Sam’s eyes narrowed as soon as Bucky walked into the café. 

Bucky slumped down onto the chair across from Sam, scowling at the table between them. 

“Good morning to you too,” Sam said. He pushed a saran-wrapped sandwich towards Bucky. “I got you something to eat.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky muttered. He started unwrapping the sandwich. 

“So why’d Sharon make you meet with me?” Sam asked. He took a bite of his own sandwich. 

“Cause I got hammered last night and came here and she got pissed about it,” Bucky said. 

Sam frowned. “Why’d you do that?” 

Bucky shrugged. “I dunno, I was drunk.” 

Sam waited. He ate some more of his sandwich and stared at Bucky. 

“Okay, fine, because I didn’t want to go home,” Bucky snapped. 

“Why?” 

“Because there’s no one there! It’s quiet and empty and I get bored and sad. So I came here instead.” 

“Yeah, because this place is known to be really uplifting,” Sam said. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything else. 

“You ever think about moving?” Sam asked. “Most people aren’t good at living alone. I have a friend who’s looking for a new roommate.” 

“I don’t want a new roommate,” Bucky muttered. “And no, I’m keeping my place. I’ve got that extra room for…” 

He trailed off, glaring at the sandwich in his hand. 

“For what?” Sam asked. “For when Steve wakes up?” 

Buck shrugged again. 

“Bucky,” Sam said gently, and Bucky cut him off. 

“I know, okay? You don’t need to tell me,” Bucky snapped, more loudly than he intended. “I know he’s got like a one percent chance of ever waking up.” 

Sam sighed, but Bucky continued. “You know what my mom said the last time I called her? ‘Maybe it’s time to let him go’. He’s not brain dead, I’m not going to fucking unplug him – “ 

“Shh,” Sam hissed, glancing around the café. 

Bucky winced and dropped his head into his hand.

“Nat thinks I should stop coming,” he mumbled.

“Do you think you should?” 

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t want to.” 

“Listen, I never got the chance to actually meet Steve,” Sam said gently, “but from what you’ve told me about him, I’m sure he’d want you to take care of yourself. And if that means taking a few days off every week from visiting him…” 

Bucky shook his head again. 

“Bucky, there’s a grieving process in situations like these,” Sam said. “It’s not the same as grieving someone who’s died, because there’s no closure. But you lost someone very important to you, and there’s a good chance you’re never going to get him back.” 

“I know that,” Bucky muttered. He sat up again, glaring. “I read all those books you gave me, Sam. I know all this shit.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t think you’re really hearing any of it,” Sam countered. “Have you dated anybody in the last two years?” 

“No,” Bucky said, scowling. “Steve’s still – “ 

He cut himself off, and Sam raised an eyebrow. 

“See?” Sam said, and Bucky made a face at him. “Bucky, what if he never wakes up?” 

Bucky stared down at the table. “I don’t know.” 

“I know it’s hard,” Sam continued. “But something’s gotta change. You’re miserable, and you can’t stay like this forever.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” Bucky snapped. He viciously ripped off part of his sandwich and shoved it into his mouth. 

Sam sighed again. “Bucky, you were at war too. You got hurt too, not just him.” 

“So?” Bucky said. “I’m up and walking around, he’s not. I’m fine.” 

“No, you aren’t,” Sam said. “You’re burying it by doing this, by coming here every day.” 

“So?” Bucky said again. “Who cares if I am? Look, by all the standards of those fucking books, I’m doing fucking great, alright? I’ve got a job, I’ve got my own place, I’ve got friends.” 

“And that’s great!” Sam said hurriedly. “But Bucky – “ 

“No, you know what? I’m done,” Bucky snapped. He grabbed his sandwich and stood up, making his way out of the café. He recognized almost everyone in here, which probably…well, that probably backed up exactly what Sam was saying. 

He automatically went to head up the stairs to Steve’s room, realized what he was doing, and then stormed out of the building altogether. 


	2. Chapter 2

He went home, poured what was left of the whiskey he had into a glass, and then flopped down on his couch, glaring at the ceiling. 

He picked up his phone and briefly thought about opening up the dating apps that Nat had installed on there for him. What would be the point, though? He couldn’t even imagine dating someone. He couldn’t imagine wanting to. Not when Steve was… 

Well. 

How would he even have a conversation with a date? If they asked him about his hobbies, he’d have to tell them that all he did in his spare time was drink or sit in an extended care facility watching reality television. If they asked him about his friends, he could tell them about… well, Nat. Maybe Sam and Sharon, even though Sam was the facility’s counselor and got paid to talk to Bucky, and so did Sharon, for that matter. 

If they asked him about any past relationships, he’d have to tell them about Steve.

He’d have to tell them about how he’d been best friends with Steve since they were kids, had been in love with him for almost as long. He’d have to tell them about how they joined up together, went overseas together, and how Steve had shoved Bucky underneath him when the explosion happened, and now Steve’s been asleep for over two years and Bucky’d been – 

He’d been here. 

He drank his whiskey, waited until the world was blurry and his limbs were sluggish, and then passed out on the couch. Again. 

He had a text from Sam the next morning, apologizing for pushing him too hard. Bucky knew that he’d run into him at some point during the next week, because Sam worked his scheduled five days a week there, and Bucky was there every day anyway. He’d talk to him then, apologize for freaking out. It’d happened before, and it would probably happen again. 

He found a few discounted tv-dvd sets at a store near his apartment, and then ordered more online when he got to work. It was a good idea. It’d be something for Steve to listen to that wasn’t reality television. They ran out of good audiobooks and podcasts a few months ago.

His boss walked behind him at one point and definitely saw him on Amazon instead of the work he was supposed to be doing. Bucky didn’t care. If he got fired, he’d just find another boring data entry job. 

He brought the new dvds when he went to the care facility after work. 

“You’re gonna like these, I think,” he said to Steve. “At least, I hope so.” 

Steve took a slow breath in. 

Bucky dropped them on the bedside table and sat down heavily in his chair. 

“You can’t really hear me, can you,” he said. 

Steve breathed in and out. 

Abruptly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He got up and stumbled out into the hallway, leaning against the wall. 

Carrie from down the hall was sitting in her usual spot on the floor, crying. Her daughter had been in a car accident a year ago, and had been here ever since. She was alive, but severely injured. She was still the facility’s extensive rehabilitation program. Carrie, her mother, would come out into the hallway and cry whenever her daughter didn’t need her. Then she’d wipe her tears away, get up, and go back into her room with a smile on her face. 

Bucky brought her coffee sometimes. 

Bucky let himself sink down to the floor, trying to make himself breathe properly. Sam was right, he couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep spending his life here, waiting for something that (according to ninety-five percent of the doctors he’d talked to) was never going to happen. 

But what else was he going to do? 

It was Steve. 

Sam, of course, found him there. Or maybe Sharon had texted him again. 

He crouched down in front of him and held out a water bottle that he’d probably bought from the machine down the hall. Bucky took it from him, but didn’t open it. 

“I’m sorry about the other day,” Sam said finally. 

Bucky shook his head. “Not your fault. I snap at everyone, that’s why I have no friends.” 

“That’s not true,” Sam tried. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Everyone in my contact list is either related to me or works here.” 

Sam sighed. He sat down against the wall next to Bucky. 

Bucky finally took a drink of his water bottle. 

“I ever tell you what happened when we were teenagers?” he asked. 

Sam shook his head. 

“We went to a party, we were sixteen or something,” Bucky started. “Told our parents that we were just sleepin’ over at each other’s houses. Steve was on some medication or something, he couldn’t drink. I did, got absolutely hammered, and then tried to walk home on my own.” 

“That always goes well,” Sam said. 

Bucky nodded. “I got lost, didn’t know where I was. It was fucking terrifying, honestly. Apparently I finally passed out in someone’s backyard. It was the middle of winter, by the way. Cold as fuck outside.” 

Sam looked mildly horrified. “I’m guessing this ends well?” 

Bucky nodded. “Steve freaked out, spent the whole night looking for me. He ended up calling the police and my parents and everything. They sent a whole team out of to find me. Finally the guy who owned the house got up to let his dog out and saw me. Got some frostbite, but other than that, I was fine. Steve was out in the cold the whole night, ended up getting pneumonia from it.” 

“That’s a really stressful story,” Sam said. 

“Yup,” Bucky said. He took another sip of the water. 

Carrie stopped crying and got up, walking back into her daughter’s room. The elderly woman across the hall that he’d never spoken too wandered out of her room and was quickly ushered back in by a nurse. 

“Bucky,” Sam said finally. “I know he got hurt saving you, when you were over there. But I don’t think he’d want you to feel like you owe him like this.” 

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t. That’s not why I’m here.” 

“Then – “ Sam started. 

“I love him,” Bucky interrupted. “More than anything.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

They sat there for another few minutes, and then Bucky got up and headed back inside. 

Three more weeks passed. Bucky got fired from his job. He didn’t bother getting a new one. 

They’d already finished all the dvd sets that Bucky had bought, so they were back to audiobooks. 

“What do you feel like?” Bucky asked, scrolling through the selection on the tablet. “I feel like we should do some classics eventually, get some education. They’re so fucking boring though. Actually, probably not as boring as murder mysteries. It’s always the person you least suspect, why don’t authors get that? They should change it up every once in a while.” 

He clicked on the sci-fi genre. 

“Here,” he said. “This one sounds kinda good, and it’s on sale. Maybe – “ 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Steve’s hand move. 

It wasn’t a twitch. It was like he’d rolled his wrist slightly, all his fingers flexing as he did so. 

Bucky froze and dropped the tablet. It hit the floor and bounced slightly, but Bucky didn’t look at it. 

His heart was pounding, and his body felt frozen. That wasn’t normal, he’d been here every day for two years and Steve had never once moved like that. 

“Steve?” he said. 

Steve moved his hand again, and Bucky vaulted out of his seat. 

He crashed through the door and ran into the hallway, nearly slamming into a nurse as he did so. 

“Sharon!” he shouted, barreling down towards the nurses station. “Sharon!”

She ran around the corner, but the other nurses were already getting to their feet, looking concerned. 

“What’s wrong?” Sharon asked, stumbling as Bucky grabbed one of her shoulders. “Bucky, what’s – “ 

“He moved his hand,” Bucky said, probably speaking too quickly for her to understand. “He moved his hand!” 

Sharon sighed, looking resigned. “Bucky, it was probably an automatic – “ 

“Sharon!” Bucky shouted. “I have been here every day for more than two years, and I’m telling you that something’s different!” 

Sharon still looked doubtful, but she started off down the hallway towards Steve’s room. Bucky ran past her and beat her inside. 

Steve looked exactly the same as he had for the last two years. 

“Bucky –“ Sharon started to say, and then Steve’s whole arm moved. 

“See!” Bucky shouted, and Sharon’s eyes widened. 

“Okay,” she said, more to herself than to Bucky. “Okay, Bucky, could you get Janice and Lila in here, please? Thanks.” 

Bucky ran back out and found both respective nurses before running back inside. 

In minutes, Steve’s room was filled with doctors and nurses, all moving around in each other in practiced motions. Bucky pressed himself against the wall, keeping out of everyone’s way. 

Carrie poked her head into the room at one point. 

“Everything okay?” she asked Bucky. He just stared wildly at her until she backed out of the room again. 

He couldn’t really tell what was happening. The doctors were talking to each other in quiet voices, leaning over Steve. 

Bucky could only really see Steve’s feet. Then Steve’s right foot flexed slightly, and Bucky had to sit down on the floor because he couldn’t breathe. 

Another hour passed. People were still moving everywhere and talking excitedly to one another. Bucky sat on the floor and stared. 

Eventually Sam showed up. Bucky watched him talk to the doctors and nurses for a while. 

He finally sat down on the floor next to Bucky, looking over at him. Bucky stared straight ahead. 

“Hey,” Sam said. “You doing okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You sure?” 

“No,” Bucky said. Someone in the room laughed at something, and Bucky flinched. 

“Okay,” Sam said. “I’m gonna give you the rundown on what’s happening, if you want. Or I can get one of the doctors – “ 

“No, you,” Bucky said hastily. 

“Alright. So, it looks like he’s waking up. You were right.” 

Bucky sucked in a breath and made himself hold it. 

“It’s not gonna be like it is in the movies,” Sam continued. “He’s not just going to sit up and be himself again. Usually in situations like these with his current brain function, it takes at least a few weeks.” 

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Okay.” 

“He’ll start moving more, and then eventually his cognition will start to come back online. When his eyes start tracking, that’s when – “ 

“The brain damage,” Bucky interrupted. “Do they know yet, if…” 

Sam shook his head. “It’s too early to say. It looks good, Bucky, it really does, but you can never tell.” 

“Okay,” Bucky repeated. 

“Don’t feel like you have to be here all the time now,” Sam continued. “We’ll make sure to have someone with him at all times, so – “ 

“I got fired,” Bucky said. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.” 

Sam sighed, but Bucky was already getting to his feet again. 

The room had finally started to clear out. A few doctors and nurses were still huddled around Steve’s charts and monitors, but for the most part it was almost back to normal. 

“Bucky, come over here,” Sharon ordered. Bucky obeyed, coming to stand next to the bed. 

Steve had stopped moving, but there was something… different, now. It was like he had more life in his face, or something. Bucky couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was there. 

“Alright,” Sharon said, typing something on her tablet with one hand. “Basically, you should just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Talk to him, hold his hand, things like that.” 

Bucky nodded. She rattled off a few more instructions, but all he did was stare at Steve. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awww thank you guys so much for all your lovely comments! if they were tangible I would gather them all up into my arms and then roll around happily with them. that's what I'm doing figuratively every time I read them

He didn’t bother going home after that. Well, he made a few trips to grab new clothes, but he came right back.

He slept, ate, and basically lived out of the chair at Steve’s bedside. He showered in the tiny bathroom attached to Steve’s room, and then returned to his seat.

The first day, Steve didn’t move again. Bucky stayed awake all night, just in case, but the room was quiet and Steve didn’t do anything but breathe.

On the second day, Bucky passed out after lunch with his head on the edge of Steve’s bed, pillowed on his arm.

He woke up when he felt the sheets shifting underneath him. Bucky sat bolt upright, his eyes flying open.

Steve’s arms were moving again. There was no pattern to the movement, but Bucky had trouble breathing anyway.

“Hey,” he said frantically, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s hand once it stilled. “Hey, bud. It’s me, you’re alright. I know you’re probably really confused, but that’s okay. I’ll explain everything when you wake up a little more, okay? I promise everything’s fine. We’ll get out of here as soon as they let us, I’ll make sure of it. You’ll like the bed I got for your room. I mean, I’ll probably have to put new sheets on it because they haven’t been changed in literally years, but hey, it’s not like you ever washed yours anyway.”

Steve’s face was still blank, but his right knee flexed and extended.

Bucky squeezed his hand and kept on babbling. “My apartment’s kind of shitty but you can draw some stuff and we’ll hang it up on the walls, make it feel more like home. Maybe we can go to the beach for your birthday this year? You’ll like that, I think. Or not. We can do whatever you want.”

Eventually, Steve stopped moving again. Bucky didn’t let go of his hand.

 

In the week that followed, Steve started moving more. It almost looked like he was stretching, some of the time. Occasionally, his limbs would jerk wildly.

Once, his hand cracked Bucky across the face, and he had to get patched up by the nurses while they laughed at him.

“This doesn’t look healthy,” Bucky fretted to Sharon as she checked Steve’s vitals.

Steve kicked one of his legs so hard that he slid down on his pillows a little. Bucky reached over and hauled him back up.

“It’s a good thing,” Sharon said, her eyes on the monitor. “In layman’s terms, his brain’s coming back online piece by piece. This is his motor coordination starting back up.”

 

Sam came by that afternoon. Steve was still again by the time he showed up, and Bucky was slumped down in his chair. He was so fucking tired. 

“They said his muscle strength is looking good,” Sam said, flipping through Steve’s chart.

Bucky smiled tiredly. “That’s why I got him brought here. They were just gonna send him to some state facility or whatever. Took weeks and a hell of a lot of phone calls, but it worked. Now he gets physio every day.”

“That’s awesome,” Sam said. He was practically beaming.

He said something else, but Bucky was too tired to make sense of any of it.

“Bucky.”

“Bucky. Hey.”

Bucky forced himself to open his eyes. Sam was standing in front of him.

“Am I gonna be able to convince you to go home and get some sleep?” Sam asked.

“No.”

Sam stared at him for another long moment and then turned and walked out of the room. He returned a few minutes later with an air mattress under one arm.

“Here,” he said, setting it down on the floor underneath the window. “I stole this from the on-call room.”

Bucky hauled himself out of his chair and stumbled over to it. It squeaked as he collapsed on top of it.

“I’ll stay with him, okay?” Sam asked. “You need to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, already half-asleep. “Thanks.”

 

It was dark when he woke up again.

He rolled onto his back and stretched. God, he felt so much better.

Sam was still sitting in Bucky’s chair, looking at something on his phone.

“Thanks,” Bucky said again. Sam smiled and waved him off.

 

Steve opened his eyes at 4:29 that morning.

Bucky was reading the news on the tablet when he saw it happen.

Steve wasn’t looking at anything. His eyes didn’t move. He just opened them, blinked slowly a few times, and then closed them again.

Bucky squeezed his hand.

 

A week later, Bucky headed down to the cafeteria to grab lunch for himself and some of the nurses. He walked back into the room, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Steve’s eyes were open, which had been happening more frequently. It didn’t faze Bucky.

At least, not until he walked around the bed to get to his chair and Steve’s eyes followed him.

Bucky dropped his sandwich onto the floor and ran back out into the hall.

“He’s tracking!” he yelled at the nurses, who all jumped. Rachel nearly spilled her soup on the floor. “Come look!”

They dutifully followed him back into Steve’s room. Steve didn’t look at them, though. He just watched Bucky.

There was still no expression on his face, no sign that he recognized Bucky or that he was even thinking anything at all, but still.

“Progress!” Bucky said cheerfully, and the nurses wrote it down on Steve’s chart. Georgia even put a big smiley face next to the description of the day’s events.

 

One week and four days after that, Bucky woke up the sensation of something touching his wrist. He was back in his chair, asleep with his head on the bed.

Slowly, Bucky sat up.

Steve’s hand was curled loosely around Bucky’s wrist. When Bucky looked up, Steve was staring straight at him.

Then Steve smiled, and Bucky felt like his heart stopped.

“Hey!” he said. “Hey, Steve, hey. Uh, I, I’m, you’re okay, you’re in the hospital, but you’re gonna be just fine.”

Steve smiled at him again and then moved his mouth, like he was trying to say something. One of the nurses who’d been taking his vitals squeaked in excitement and rushed out of the room, darting back in a moment later with a gaggle of other nurses.

The smile slipped off Steve’s face as he worked his jaw, frustration growing in his face.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to talk,” Bucky said hastily. “It’s really early still, no need to rush it. You’re doing great, okay? I just need to know, you’re not in pain or anything, are you?”

Steve stared at him for another long moment, and then slowly shook his head.

Relief flooded through Bucky. “That’s great, that’s perfect. Look, lemme get one of the doctors, they’ll – “

Steve’s eyes were already closing again. He squeezed Bucky’s wrist, so gently that Bucky could barely feel it, and then he was asleep again.

“This is awesome,” one of the newer nurses said. She and Harriet hugged each other.

Bucky carefully extracted his arm from Steve’s grasp and stood up. He made his way through the excited group of people and stumbled out into the hallway.

“Bucky?” Sharon said. She was staring at him, a frown on her face. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head and stumbled past her. He made it down the stairs and outside before he had to sit down.

 

Sam found him there a few minutes later, curled up in the dirt with his back to the building, struggling to get air into his lungs.

“Hey,” Sam said gently. “I’m gonna put my hand on your back, okay? Then we’re gonna breathe together.”

Five minutes later, Bucky’s breathing was more or less under his control again. He was still shaking, but he took the water bottle that Sam offered him and forced himself to take a few sips.

“Is that better?” Sam asked, once Bucky managed to pull himself up right into what was more or less a sitting position.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. Fuck. Sorry.”

“No problem,” Sam said easily. “That’s what I’m here for.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, watching people make their way in and out of the facility.

“Did they ever tell you what happened?” Bucky asked. “To Steve? And me?”

“I heard the short version,” Sam said.

Bucky stared at the ground in front of him. He kicked at a rock with his foot and watched as it skittered away.

“We were checking out this building,” he started. “Making sure it was empty. It was, everything was fine. So Steve tells us all to head out, and we start going.”

He paused for a moment, taking another deep breath. Sam waited.

“I was the last one out,” Bucky said, not meeting Sam’s eyes. “Steve was almost out the door, and then... it just… came down, on top of us. Half the building. Still don’t know what caused it, but something somewhere exploded and then all of the third floor and part of the second came down.”

Sam didn’t say anything, so Bucky continued.

“Big piece of concrete landed on me. I didn’t even feel it, honestly. I was on the ground and this thing was on my arm and my shoulder and it didn’t hurt but I couldn’t fucking move, I was just stuck there. And the building’s still shaking, and everything’s on fire – “

“Bucky,” Sam interrupted. “It’s not happening now.”

Bucky blinked and shook himself out of it. “Right. Right. Uh, so I looked up, and Steve was okay. Everyone else was out already and he was kind of banged up, but he was right in the doorway still. He could have rolled a foot to the left and been outside. But he looked up and he saw me and… I told him not to, I was fucking screaming at him to turn around but he came back for me. He was trying to get that piece of concrete off me but that thing wasn’t going to fucking move.”

Bucky stopped and made himself take another drink of water.

“He kept telling me that it’d be fine,” he muttered, staring at the water bottle in his hand. “The building was on fire, I was bleeding out everywhere, and he was still telling me that we’d get out. And then the support beams went and the rest of the second floor came down. Steve, being the fucking asshole that he is, he… “

He squeezed his water bottle so hard that it started to crack. He backed off and made himself take another conscious breath.

“He threw himself over top of me,” Bucky continued. “I heard it hit him and then he went limp. I remember thinking about how fucking heavy he was, and then I couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not, and he never went down ever, not the whole time we were over there, but he wasn’t moving and I couldn’t help him because I was still stuck and fucking useless, and I thought he was dead, Sam, I thought he was dead and it took them hours to get to us, hours. I passed out when they finally pulled him off me, and I woke up in the hospital back here and they wouldn’t tell me if he was alive for days. For days, Sam. It wasn’t their fault, really, they didn’t know if he was going to make it or not – “

“Bucky,” Sam interrupted again. “Bucky, take a breath.”

He made himself take several slow, deep breaths, Sam watching him carefully.

Bucky dropped his head into his hands.

“I don’t know why I’m freaking out now,” Bucky mumbled. “This is good. This is a good thing.”

“Well, yeah,” Sam said. “But you’ve been waiting for this for years, Bucky. It’s okay to be overwhelmed.”

Bucky snorted. “Is that what this is?”

“Seems like it.”

They sat in silence for another few moments. Bucky finished his water.

“He’s not going to be happy with me,” Bucky said, staring at the ground. “When he sees… how I’ve been living. Or not living, I guess.”

“One step at a time, okay?” Sam said. “There’s no use panicking about things that haven’t happened yet.”

“True,” Bucky muttered. He rolled to his feet and got up, brushing the dirt off his jeans. “I gotta go back in there.”

“You ready?” Sam asked.

Bucky thought about it and chose not to say anything. He headed back into the building, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve as he went.

Steve was already asleep again by the time he got back, but that was alright. Bucky couldn’t get over how different Steve already seemed. Even passed out like he was now, he just seemed more like a person than the empty shell he’d been before.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve woke up again the next morning before the sun even came up.

Bucky was back in his chair with his breakfast tray balanced on his lap, his sock feet up on Steve’s bed. He had the sound off on the television, but he had the subtitles on and was watching a documentary on surviving the Alaskan wilderness.

Bucky pulled off a piece of croissant and popped it into his mouth, watching as the man on the television accidentally drove his truck off a small waterfall.

“Idiot,” Bucky said.

“Mhmmph,” Steve mumbled, and Bucky yelped. He nearly knocked his food into the floor, catching it at the last second. He tossed the tray onto the bedside table and sat up.

Steve’s eyes were open again, and he blinked groggily. He stretched his arms out slowly.

“Hey!” Bucky said, scrambling forward to rest his elbow on the bed. “Hey, can you hear me?”

Steve slowly rolled his head on the pillow, finally focusing on Bucky. He smiled again, and Bucky’s heart leapt.

Steve moved like he was going to try and sit up, and then frowned when he couldn’t.

“Urgh,” he said, and tried again.

“Okay, hold on,” Bucky ordered. He scrambled around to find the controls for the bed and finally got it propped up. “Better?”

Steve smiled again and then cleared his throat. He grimaced, and tried again.

“It’s okay if you can’t talk,” Bucky said hurriedly. “I can talk enough for the both of us.”

Steve grinned and then shook his head. He gestured weakly with one hand at the pitcher of water on the bedside table.

“Oh, right,” Bucky said, and scrambled to pour a cup of water. “Sorry, I’m so fucking bad at this.”

He went to help Steve drink from the cup, but Steve glared at him.

“Look, you can do it yourself, but you’re gonna spill,” Bucky warned. “Come on, just let me help you.”

Steve opened and closed his mouth once, and then very clearly said “no.”

His voice was hoarse and dry, not to mention painfully faint, but Bucky couldn’t help but beam at him anyway.

“Of course that’s that first thing that you say in – “ he started to say, before remembering that Steve might not know how long it’d been. Now wasn’t the time to break it to him. “Okay, fine,” he said instead. “But if you dump the whole thing on yourself, I’m not cleaning you up.”

Steve determinedly reached forward the cup. It took a few tries for him to close his hand around it, but he managed it.

Steve did end up spilling most of the water on himself, but he got some of it in his mouth at least.

“Aw, look at you go,” Bucky said.

Steve glared at him and then nearly dropped the cup. Bucky hastily took it from him.

“Okay, that’s a really good start,” Bucky said, leaning back to set the cup down. “I should probably get one of the nurses – “

He looked up when one of Steve’s monitors started beeping. Steve was staring at him, his eyes wide and horrified.

“Steve?” Bucky asked cautiously. “What’s – “

He followed Steve’s line of sight, and realized a second too late that Steve was staring at Bucky’s pinned up sleeve on his left arm.

“No, it’s okay,” Bucky said frantically. Steve’s eyes were welling up, his monitors beeping wildly. “I’m fine, Steve, I’m okay.”

A few nurses rushed into the room, and Steve’s eyes darted to them. Bucky could see him starting to panic.

“Steve, look at me,” he urged. Steve dragged his gaze back to Bucky reluctantly. “You’ve gotta calm down. I’m fine! I’m completely fine.”

One of the nurses, Georgia, reached for one of Steve’s IV lines.

“Don’t you fucking sedate him,” Bucky snapped.

Georgia gave him a pained look. “But – “

“He’s calming down,” Bucky said. “Right, Steve?”

Steve wasn’t, but Bucky ignored that.

“He’s fine,” Bucky said sharply. “We’re fine.”

Georgia sighed, but stepped back. Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Bucky…” Steve said. He looked devastated, but his eyes were already starting to close.

“It’s okay,” Bucky repeated. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Everything’s fine, I promise.”

Steve gave him a doubtful look, but he took a deep breath. The tension in his shoulders and face started to ebb.

Bucky waited until Steve was deeply under again before he slumped back into his chair and groaned.

 

“Buck?” Steve said. This was the longest he’d been awake, so far.

“Mhmm,” Bucky said through his mouthful of croissant.

Steve watched him for a moment. His eyes flicked back and forth between Bucky’s arm and his face.

“How long?” Steve asked. Bucky sighed and put his croissant back in his lap.

“Almost two and a half years,” Bucky said bluntly. There was no use dancing around it.

Steve’s eyes widened. “You’re not messing with me, are you?”

“Of course not!” Bucky said, and Steve relaxed a little. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes wide.

“What did I miss?” Steve asked after another few moments.

“Ah, jeez,” Bucky said. “I dunno. Not that much.”

“Two and a half years, Buck!”

“I know, I was here. Look, when you’re feeling a little better I’ll find one of those articles that sums up each year, okay? You can read the headlines.”

Steve nodded, his eyes still wide.

“What happened?” he asked.

Bucky stared at him. “You mean…”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “How’d I… how’d I get like this?”

“You don’t remember?”

Steve frowned, his eyes drifting back to the ceiling again. “I… it’s all kind of… hazy, I guess. I remember you getting hurt, and I remember being scared and then…”

“I’ll tell you when you’re better,” Bucky said, ripping another piece of croissant off. He didn’t meet Steve’s eyes.

“But I – “

“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” Bucky said sharply. _I can’t talk about it,_ he wanted to say.

His stomach twisted as he thought about it. God, they’d been stuck there for so fucking long, and he’d been sure Steve was dead. He wouldn’t move, not even when Bucky screamed in his ear for him to wake up, to do something, and he hadn’t been able to feel him breathing –

“Bucky?”

By the time they’d cleared enough of the rubble away to get to them, Bucky had been soaked in both Steve’s blood and his own. He’d –

“Bucky!”

Bucky felt a tug on his wrist, and he looked down to see Steve’s hand wrapped around it. Steve had pulled himself into what could almost be considered a sitting position, and was staring at Bucky anxiously.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, avoiding Steve’s gaze. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said gently. “We can talk about something else, alright? How’s your sister, and your mom?”

Bucky brightened up a little, grateful for the change in topic.

They couldn’t dance around it forever, though, and Bucky knew that. He’d try and keep the conversation light and happy, and then Steve would say things like “so what have you been doing?”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, from where he was half on top of the tv stand, trying to fix the cable input. “Like this morning?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He was sitting up in bed finally, flipping through news articles on Bucky’s tablet. “No, for the last two and a half years.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, deliberately ducking behind the tv again so that Steve couldn’t see his face. “Uh, not much.”

“Do you have a job?” Steve asked, apparently not going to let this go.

“I did, but I got fired,” Bucky said. “It’s fine, it was just some dumb data entry gig. I’ll get another one.”

Steve sighed. “Okay. Buck, come on. Start from the beginning.”

Bucky scrambled out from behind the television, scowling. “Do you want it day by day, or – “

Steve groaned and waved the tablet at him. “I’m going to throw this at you.”

“Don’t,” Bucky said. “Your motor coordination is terrible, you’d miss and break it. I can’t afford a new one.”

“Bucky.”

Bucky sighed and flopped down on the end of Steve’s bed, lying on his back. Steve stared down at him, his face set.

“Fine,” Bucky groused. “They sent you to a hospital down in Florida, and I was in one up in Portland. The second I got out, I went down and found you. It took a while, but we got you transferred from there to this one here.”

“How?” Steve asked. “This place looks really nice, Buck. Too nice.”

Bucky shrugged. “We got a lawyer, he did most of the legwork. Convinced them that they owed you at least this much.”

“How much did that cost?”

“My mom paid,” Bucky said. “Said it was the least she could do.”

Steve looked like he was going to cry, so Bucky hurriedly kept talking. “So, uh, we got you moved here and then I got an apartment nearby. That’s… pretty much it.”

Steve still looked devastated, but he visibly tried to reign it in.

“So, uh,” Steve said awkwardly. “Have you been… dating anyone?”

“Steve!” Bucky said, indignant. He scrambled upright. “No!”

Steve shrugged. “I just… it’s been a long time, Buck, I’d understand if – “

“No,” Bucky repeated. “No one. I didn’t… I didn’t want to.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “But if you did, or had, I’d get it.”

Bucky scowled. “Well, there’s nothing to get.”

He flopped back down on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling. Steve sighed.

“Bucky?” he said after a moment. “What would you have done if I hadn’t woken up?”

Bucky tensed. “I don’t know.”

“But – “

“Steve, I don’t know,” Bucky said. He rolled over on the bed until his face was pressed against Steve’s knee. “I don’t fucking know, alright?”

Steve sighed again and started running his hand through Bucky’s hair. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”

They fell asleep like that, after a while. It was the best sleep Bucky had had in years.

 

“In all of my years of working here,” Steve’s physiotherapist said, “I have never encountered a more stubborn patient.”

Steve scowled and reached for the heavier weight again. “I can do it.”

“Maybe you _can_ ,” she snapped, “but you shouldn’t.”

She reached over and grabbed the weights out of Steve’s reach, leaving him on his bed frowning. Bucky laughed.

“Use this one,” she said, handing him a tiny little weight. “This is enough.”

“Aw,” Bucky said. “It’s so cute.”

Steve glared at him, and Bucky laughed.

“I’m gonna go grab some resistance bands,” she said, “and we can get started on your legs. Don’t get up.”

She stalked out of the room, and Steve immediately swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Don’t do it,” Bucky warned.

“I can do it!” Steve protested. “I feel great!”

“I’m sure you do, but you also haven’t walked in two and a half years without people practically carrying you.”

Steve wiggled his toes, staring determinedly at Bucky. “Get up, I’ll just try and get to your chair.”

“No,” Bucky said smugly from his very comfortable chair. “You’ll just have to turn around and go back.”

“Fine, I’ll just sit on you then.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, sitting up. “You’re not actually going to do it.”

Steve set his feet on the floor and stood up. He immediately dropped, and Bucky only barely managed to catch him before he cracked his head on the floor.

“You fucking idiot,” Bucky panted, helping Steve sink down to the floor.

“That,” Steve said slowly, “didn’t go as planned.”

Bucky stared at him for a moment, and then cracked up. Steve stared at him with raised eyebrows before starting to laugh too.

Steve’s physio walked back into the room a few minutes later and found them like that. Bucky was still rolling around, almost in tears.

“Please tell me you didn’t try to walk,” she said, her hands on her hips.

“I didn’t try to walk?” Steve said hesitantly. Bucky cracked up again.

In the week that followed, each day was a constant stream of physiotherapists and occupational therapists. All of them were exceptionally pleased with the progress Steve was making. It didn’t take him long to be up and walking around. He and Bucky even managed one whole lap of the facility’s garden one morning before Steve had to lie down in the grass for a while.

“Steve?” Bucky said, staring up at the clouds moving lazily above them. “Did you… shit, I don’t really know how to ask this. When you were asleep, did you know I was there?”

Steve didn’t reply, and Bucky finally turned his head to look at him. Steve was staring up at the sky, a slight frown in his face.

“Yes,” he said finally. “But it’s… I don’t know how to explain it, exactly. Like at first there was nothing, and then I sort of knew that time was passing, but I didn’t really care. And then sometimes everything would get louder, and I could hear you talking and hear the tv and things like that. That was nice, really nice, cause I guess I was kinda conscious enough to get bored. And then it would fade away for a while.”

“That sounds fucking awful,” Bucky said.

“Eh,” Steve said. “It is what it is. Buck…”

He didn’t say anything else, and Bucky rolled over again. “What?”

“Thank you,” Steve said quietly. “I don’t… I don’t know what it would have been like, if I hadn’t known you were there.”

Bucky shrugged, uncomfortable. “It wasn’t much.”

“Bullshit,” Steve said sharply. “I know it was.”

Bucky rolled to his feet and held his hand out for Steve to take. “Come on, let’s go get some lunch.”

“Bucky – “

“They’ve got paninis in the café today,” Bucky said.” “We should get some before someone else snags them all.”

Steve gave him a long look, but grabbed Bucky’s hand and let him pull him up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love these comments love u guys

One month, two weeks, and three days after Steve woke up, they let him go home.

The nurses threw a party, complete with balloons and cake. Steve had charmed them all by that point, and a few of them even teared up a little at the thought of him leaving.

Bucky hung back and let everyone else celebrate. It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited. He was. He’d been waiting for this for so long, but… he didn’t really know what he was going to do now.

“We can take a cab,” Bucky said as they finally headed out of the facility. Steve was scheduled for physio four times a week, still, but he was no longer inpatient.

“Nah, let’s take the bus,” Steve said, his eyes bright. He looked so happy. “No need for any of that fancy shit.”

Bucky laughed. “I was trying to be accommodating.”

“I don’t need accommodation,” Steve said as he hopped onto the bus as it pulled up to their stop.

Maybe so, but he did have to sit down for most of the trip. Steve was practically beaming as he looked out the window, grinning as he watched the world go by outside.

Bucky smiled, watching him. Steve had always looked at the world differently than Bucky did, like it was something to be admired, rather than something to be watched with distrust and caution.

“This us?” Steve asked as Bucky hit the stop button. Bucky nodded and led the way off the bus, suddenly nervous.

“Don’t get your hopes up, okay?” he said as he led Steve into the building. “It’s not much.”

“That’s fine,” Steve said. “Buck, I don’t care. You know that.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky muttered, hitting the button for the elevator. “I probably should’ve cleaned up a little. I haven’t been here for more than like twenty minutes since you woke up.”

“I used to hang out in your teenage bedroom,” Steve said. “It can’t be worse than that.”

Bucky sighed as the elevator doors opened and led Steve down the hallway. He reluctantly unlocked the door and let Steve inside before shutting and locking it behind him.

Steve set his backpack down by the door, already looking around. Bucky cringed as he tried to see the apartment through Steve’s eyes.

It wasn’t a hovel, but it wasn’t anything to write home about either. Plain brown carpet, white walls, plain white cabinets in the kitchen. There was a single bland sofa in the living room, and then a slightly misshapen table against one wall with a few equally ugly chairs.

“Ugh,” Bucky muttered out loud, and Steve shrugged.

“Lots of space in here,” he said, wandering into the kitchen. “Good light, too.”

“Well, that’s something,” Bucky mumbled, and then winced when he saw Steve take note of the kitchen corner where Bucky had been dumping his empty alcohol bottles. He’d been meaning to take them to the recycling depot and maybe get a little cash for them, but he’d never gotten around to it. As a result, the bottles spilled out of the recycling bin and into a messy pile on the floor.

Steve turned to look at Bucky frowning.

“Not all of those are mine,” Bucky said quickly.

Steve crossed his arms and waited.

“They’ve accumulated over time?” Bucky tried.

Steve narrowed his eyes at him.

“Anyway,” Bucky said, spinning around. “This is the kitchen. Uh, there’s not much else to show you, but, uh, the bathroom’s right here, and that’s your room in there.”

Steve still looked suspicious, but he obediently followed Bucky around the apartment.

“Aw, Buck,” he said, poking his head into the bedroom that Bucky had set up for him. “You’ve even got my art stuff in here, this is great.”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled. “And, uh, this is my room here, and that’s it.”

“It’s great,” Steve said, smiling again. “This is awesome, Buck.”

“Our old place was nicer,” Bucky muttered. “But I thought maybe we could put some of your stuff up on the walls, maybe go get some new furniture or something. I didn’t need much when it was just me.”

“Sure, whatever,” Steve said easily. He headed back out into the kitchen, starting to look through the cupboards. “You got anything for lunch?”

“If there’s any food left in there, it’s not worth eating anymore. There’s a pretty good sandwich place down the street, though.”

“Awesome,” Steve said. “Let’s do that, then we can get groceries after.”

Bucky followed him out of the house again, just trailing in his wake. God, he’d been living in such a monotonous way for so long that it felt weird to be back up against Steve’s energy.

 

The rest Steve’s first day home was good. Really good. It was weird to see the fridge and cupboards all full of groceries again. The apartment already felt more alive with Steve buzzing around, fixing things up.

Bucky was sprawled on the couch, texting Natasha, as Steve gathered up the bottles into bags to be taken to the depot tomorrow.

He deliberately set them down loudly next to the door, glancing at Bucky as he did so.

“This is very passive aggressive of you,” Bucky said. “You can just say it.”

Steve sighed. “I’m worried about you, Buck.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky said, rolling onto his back. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that – “

“Well, it’s true!”

Bucky groaned. “What do you want me to say, Steve?”

Steve stared at him for a long moment, and then walked over. He dropped down onto the couch next to Bucky.

“I dunno,” he said, rubbing Bucky’s ankle gently. “That you’ve been taking care of yourself instead of just running yourself into the ground for me.”

 Bucky shrugged. “I have been. I had a job and everything.”

“Yeah, and you don’t seem to care very much that you got fired.”

“Whatever, I’ll get a new job. Who cares. Do you want pizza for dinner?”

Steve definitely knew that Bucky was changing the subject, but he let it drop.

 

It didn’t get awkward until later that evening.

They were both still sprawled on the couch. Steve was reading newspaper articles on Bucky’s tablet, and Bucky was watching an impressively boring show about people building decks.

He glanced over at Steve to find him slumped against the arm of the couch, his eyes closed.

Bucky smiled and nudged Steve gently with his foot.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t pass out here.”

Steve rubbed his eyes, sitting up. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to, it’s too early to go to sleep.”

“Not if you’re tired,” Bucky said. “You gotta rest. Go get some sleep.” He gestured around the mostly empty room. “All of this splendor will be here when you get back.”

Steve laughed and got up. “Alright, fine.”

Bucky heard him head down the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth. A few minutes later, Steve wandered back into the living room. He looked awkward.

“Uh…” he said, hands in his sweatpants pockets.

“What,” Bucky said. “Do you not have toothpaste or something? Just use mine.”

“No,” Steve said slowly. “I was just… which bed do you want me to sleep in?”

Bucky stared at him. “Oh. Uh.”

They’d always had separate bedrooms, even in their old apartment. It just worked better. It gave Steve more room to spread his art supplies out, and more doors for Bucky to slam during a fight.

They’d always shared a bed, though. Every night, without fail.

“Uh,” Bucky said. “We can share, if you want? Or, uh, you can sleep in your own if that’s what you want.”

Steve shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. What do you want?”

“Whatever you want.”

Steve stared at him, and Bucky stared back. They’d known each other since they were kids, it had never been awkward between them before.

“Well, maybe I’ll sleep in my own then, for tonight,” Steve said slowly.

“Alright,” Bucky said. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Steve said, wandering back off down the hallway.

Bucky cringed. Of course he wanted Steve to sleep with him, of course he did, but now it was too late to call him back and say that.

By the time Bucky hauled himself off the couch and got ready for bed, the light was off in Steve’s room. He’d left the door cracked open, though, and Bucky didn’t know if that was supposed to be an invitation or not.

He headed into his own room and collapsed onto the bed. He glanced around before he turned the light off. God, he hated this room. It was just a bed and a dresser, nothing on the walls. He’d never bothered to buy a proper laundry hamper, so his dirty clothes were just piled up on the floor in the corner.

He curled in on himself miserably and resigned himself to another cold and lonely night.

 

Not three minutes later, he very clearly heard Steve mutter “fuck it” and climb out of bed.

Sure enough, Steve tiptoed into the doorway of Bucky’s room a moment later.

“Buck?” he called softly. “You awake?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled into his pillow. Steve slipped into the room and carefully crawled onto the bed next to Bucky.

“Is this okay?” Steve asked, sliding under the blankets next to him.

“’Course,” Bucky mumbled, and wiggled over so that he was pressed up against Steve’s side.

“I just feel like I’m imposing,” Steve murmured. “You’ve got a whole life here, and I just kind of dropped back in – “

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky mumbled, and Steve laughed.

 

The topic of sex didn’t come up until two days later, when they were making dinner in the kitchen.

Bucky tried to slide around Steve to get to one of the cupboards just as Steve reached for one over Bucky’s head. They ended up pressed together, Bucky with his back to the counter and Steve facing him.

Steve grinned at him, and Bucky moved forward and kissed him.

It felt so good, so fucking good. Bucky had missed this so much, and Steve clearly had to, from the way he pressed Bucky back against the counter.

He slid his hand up the back of Steve’s shirt, and abruptly he felt Steve tense a little.

Bucky pulled away and leaned back, frowning. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve said, and tried to move in again. Bucky shook his head at him.

“No,” he said. “Something’s up. Tell me what it is.”

“It’s nothing,” Steve tried.

 Bucky folded his arms and glared.

Steve sighed and stepped back, rubbing at his face. “It’s… hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

“It’s kind of…” Steve started slowly. “Ever since I woke up, it’s like, I’m kind of detached from tactile stuff.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve shrugged. “I mean, it’s getting better. It’s improving every day, I think it’s just a part of my brain that hasn’t totally woken up yet.”

He reached out and placed deliberately put his hand on the counter. “See, I can feel the counter, right? But it doesn’t really feel like I’m feeling it, if that makes sense.”

“It kind of does,” Bucky said, still frowning slightly. “So me touching you, or you touching me, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing it?”

“No, it does,” Steve said hurriedly. “But it just feels kind of… dull, or detached, I guess. I dunno. It’s weird.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Okay, that’s fine.”

“No, I still want to – “ Steve said hastily, and tried to lean back in for another kiss.

Bucky got his hand between them, pressing it against Steve’s chest and stopping him in his tracks. “Do you really want to, or do you just think that I want to?”

Steve stared at him for a moment, and then drooped.

“I want to,” he said tiredly. “But… my body doesn’t? Right now?”

“Then we’ll wait,” Bucky said, turning back the cabinets.

“You sure?” Steve said quietly from behind him.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I’ve still got one hand, at least.”

Steve made a disgusted noise and smacked Bucky across the shoulders, sending Bucky into peals of laughter. God, he’d missed Steve so much.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for all your lovely comments!!! I love them. I want to print all of them off and then throw them up into the air and then roll around in them forever

It’s been a week and a half, and Bucky wasn’t doing well.

He really wasn’t doing well, despite what he repeatedly said to Sam and Nat and even Sharon in texts.

Steve was doing great, he really was. He went to his physio and OT appointments and still came home with energy. He’d put some of his art up on the walls, they’d found some new furniture online, and Steve had hauled out some of his old books to fill up the bookshelf.

Bucky, on the other hand, was cratering.

He was on edge all the time now, nearly vibrating out of his skin. He snapped at Steve over little things that didn’t even matter, and nearly threw his phone through the wall when Sam kept sending him questions about how he was doing.

He woke up every morning feeling like he was going to cry, but nothing happened. He had no reason to cry, everything was fine. Everything was better than fine, actually. He got to wake up every morning to Steve making him breakfast, or Steve singing badly in the shower. The apartment had life in it again, after being silent as a grave for so long.

It was great, and Bucky didn’t know what to do with it.

He’d spent so long being miserable, being so focused on Steve getting better, that now he didn’t know what to do. Steve was already looking at online courses and diploma programs for himself, and part-time jobs as well. Bucky had no interest in going back to school, and he couldn’t even think of a job that might interest him. He _had_ no interests, and no hobbies.

He alternated between being devastatingly sad and furiously angry. He didn’t know where it had come from, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Bucky didn’t think that Steve had noticed, or at least he hadn’t noticed the extent of it. It wasn’t until he caught Bucky pouring vodka into his morning’s orange juice that he even said anything about it.

Bucky finished pouring the vodka and then recapped the bottle, ignoring Steve’s disapproving frown.

“You want waffles?” Bucky asked, moving to the fridge and opening it. “I can do pancakes, too.”

“Bucky,” Steve said. “It’s nine in the morning.”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m making breakfast.”

Steve folded his arms over his chest. “Why are you drinking at nine in the morning?”

Bucky shrugged, deliberately not meeting his gaze. He pretended to move things around in the fridge so he wouldn’t have to look up. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m not doing anything today.”

“Thought we were gonna go out for lunch. Maybe check out that craft fair in the park.”

“Yeah, and we’re gonna,” Bucky said. He pulled the milk out of the fridge. “Pancakes?”

“Not if you’re drunk, we’re not.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna be drunk. It’s just a drink, jesus, Steve.”

He tossed the milk onto the counter and headed back out to the living room, grabbing his drink as he went.

“No, it would be ‘just a drink’ if it were nine in the evening and on a Friday, maybe,” Steve said, following him out into the living room. “It’s not.”

Bucky’s patience snapped. “Fuck off, Steve. Leave me the fuck alone.”

Steve stared at him, his face tight and unreadable. Bucky immediately felt bad about saying that, but Steve had already stalked off to his room.

Bucky slumped down on the couch and stared miserably at the glass in his hand, before tipping his head back and drinking it all down in one go.

It took the edge off a little, but not much.

 

Steve walked back in a few minutes later, still frowning.

“What’s Sam’s phone number?” he asked. “Can you text it to me?”

Bucky squinted up at him from the couch. Yeah, okay, maybe he was a little drunk. “Why? You gonna talk to him about me? He won’t do that. Patient confidentiality or whatever.”

“No,” Steve said. “I just wanted to ask him something.”

“Something what?” Bucky asked, fully aware that he was being unnecessarily hostile. “Gonna ask him what’s wrong with me?”

“No,” Steve repeated. He was clearly getting frustrated, and maybe a little sad. “I just wanted to ask him how to help you, Buck.”

“I don’t need help,” Bucky said. He hauled himself off the couch, stumbling a bit. “I’m fine.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve said snarkily. “You’re fine. You’re doing just great.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky muttered, and stumbled into his room. He slammed the door shut behind him and made a beeline for the bed.

 

He woke up two hours later and immediately felt stupid for having said things like that.

He hauled himself up and went back out into the living room, to where Steve was sitting and frowning at his phone. He’d probably found Sam’s number another way.

“Hey,” Bucky mumbled. “Uh, I’m sorry.”

Steve looked up. “It’s alright.”

Bucky slumped down next to him on the couch and leaned against him, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

“We don’t have to go out today,” Steve said quietly. “Let’s just watch tv or something.”

“Okay,” Bucky said tiredly. Being this angry all the time was exhausting.

 

He actually thought that he was keeping it together fairly well, all things considered, until the omelet incident.

Steve was trying to make, in his words, ‘the perfect omelet.’ Bucky was almost in tears of laughter watching the process, because Steve would get so frustrated every time something went wrong.

“Fucking eggshells,” he muttered, trying to frantically fish the broken eggshell out of the pan.

“Why didn’t you just crack it into a bowl?” Bucky asked, wiping at his eyes.

“Because I got overconfident,” Steve said sadly. “This is so sad.”

Several minutes and several failed omelets later, Steve turned around with a huge smile and set the plate down on the counter.

“Behold,” he said grandly. “I have done it. The perfect omelet.”

Bucky opened his mouth to tell him that he was a nerd, but instead what happened was that Bucky’s throat closed up and his breath hitched.

Steve stopped, staring at Bucky warily. “Buck?”

Bucky turned away, intending to head for his room. Instead, what happened was that he sat down hard on the floor because he couldn’t breathe.

He heard Steve saying his name, but it didn’t matter because he couldn’t fucking breathe. He was crying, and it was fucking embarrassing because he hadn’t cried since they’d pulled him out of that building –

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” Steve asked frantically. He was kneeling next to Bucky on the floor, and Bucky couldn’t even look at him. He couldn’t get it together.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve said. His arms were tight around Bucky’s shoulders. “Buck, everything’s okay.”

It was, and Bucky knew that, but he couldn’t stop fucking crying.

“I’m so fucking mad at you,” Bucky gasped out. “I’m so fucking mad.”

“Buck…” Steve said, his hand rubbing up and down Bucky’s arm.

“I told you to go!” Bucky shouted. “I told you to fucking get out!”

“Bucky, I’m sorry – “

“No, you’re not,” Bucky spat out. “I know you’re fucking not.”

Steve’s arms stayed just as tight around him, and his hand didn’t stop moving on Bucky’s arm.

“Yeah, you know what?” Steve said in Bucky’s ear. “I’m not. I don’t remember it, but I know that I’d do anything to keep you safe, Buck. I’d do it again.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky snarled, and managed to scramble out of Steve’s grip.

He made it all the way to his bedroom before his legs gave out again and he sat down hard on the floor.

He gave up trying to hold in the sobs wracking his chest and curled in on himself, pressing his back against the wall.

Bucky heard his bedroom door open, but he didn’t have the energy to yell at Steve anymore.

Steve sat down next to him and wrapped Bucky in his arms again. Bucky gave up and buried his face in Steve’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve said again. His voice didn’t sound like it was working too well either. “I’m sorry you got hurt, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.”

Bucky laughed hoarsely and rubbed at his eyes. “You were in a damn coma.”

“I know,” Steve said quietly into Bucky’s hair. “I just… wish things had been different. I’m here now though, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky shuddered, trying to calm himself down. He knew that, he did.

“We’re gonna get you some help,” Steve mumbled. “Don’t say you’re fine, either. You’re miserable.”

Bucky didn’t bother arguing. He kept his face pressed into Steve’s shirt and tried to slow his breathing down.

“I hate seeing you like this,” Steve said. “I hate watching you hurt.”

“Yeah, well how do you think I felt, staring at you in a hospital bed for two and a half years,” Bucky mumbled.

Steve’s arms tightened. “We’re gonna get better from here. This is the worst of it.”

Bucky nodded, but then his eyes welled up again and he just couldn’t fucking _stop_.

 

When he woke up the next morning, his eyes were dry and gritty and his head was pounding slowly.

He vaguely remembered Steve hauling him into bed later that afternoon, and just curling up miserably while Steve held him. It was morning again, which meant that Bucky must have slept through the entire evening and night. Bucky rubbed at his eyes until he could finally blink them open properly.

Steve was sprawled out next to him, his mouth hanging half open and his face mashed into the pillow. It wasn’t particularly attractive, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile because he just loved Steve so damn much.

He dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He felt a little bit more human by the time he was done showering, and went to go make some breakfast.

He felt… lighter, he guessed. He felt less likely to fracture and split into a million pieces at any moment, so that was an improvement. He just felt kind of dull, now, and worn out. It wasn’t great.

Bucky dragged out the old Belgian waffle maker from one of the cabinets and got it set up, rooting through the fridge to find ingredients.

Steve shuffled into the kitchen when the smell of waffles started wafting through the apartment. His hair was standing up in all directions, and Bucky was pretty sure that was one of his shirts.

“Morning,” Steve said sleepily. He leaned against the counter, watching Bucky cook with sleepy eyes. “How’re you feeling?”

Bucky shrugged, embarrassed. “Uh, I’m okay. Look, Steve, I’m, I’m really sorry about yesterday, I was a fucking mess – “

Steve shook his head. “Don’t, Buck, you don’t have to do that. It’s just me.”

Bucky deflated. “Okay.”

“Sam texted me back,” Steve said, getting the juice out of the fridge. “He’s got a whole list of programs for you to take a look at.”

Bucky hesitated, and Steve narrowed his eyes. “Bucky.”

Bucky sighed. “Okay, I’ll take a look at them after breakfast.”

“You mean it?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, keeping an eye on the cooking waffle. “Steve, I… I don’t like living like this, I really don’t.”

Steve visibly relaxed a little. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s fix it then.”


	7. Chapter 7

“I’m gonna hate this,” Bucky muttered as Steve dragged him toward the faculty door. “I’m gonna hate this, Steve.” 

“If you really do end up hating it, then we’ll find something else that’ll work better,” Steve said easily. He pulled Bucky through the front doors and into the lobby. “I’ll get lunch after my physio, I’ll meet you in the café when you’re done?” 

Bucky stared helplessly at him, his arm wrapped around himself. 

“It’ll be fine!” Steve said, beaming at him. “You’ll feel better afterward.” 

“If you’re wrong and I feel worse, can we get pizza for dinner instead of more fucking kale?” 

“Yes,” Steve said. “I’ll accept that deal.” 

“Good,” Bucky muttered. “I fucking hate kale.” 

Steve pulled him into a hug. Bucky just wanted to stay there. 

“Doesn’t matter how much time you waste talking about kale,” Steve said. “You’re still gonna go down that hallway and into that room.” 

Bucky groaned and stepped out of Steve’s arms, heading down the hallway. He kept groaning, loudly, just so that Steve would know how displeased he was about this. He heard Steve laughing behind him, and that made him smile as he pushed open the door to the mental health wing of the facility. 

“So?” Steve said as Bucky sat down across from him. “How’d it go?” 

Bucky stabbed his salad with his fork. “Terrible.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Really?” 

“Nah, it was fine,” Bucky said, and Steve threw a piece of cantaloupe at him. “I mean, it wasn’t great or anything, and this one girl talked the entire fucking time instead of letting anyone else talk, but I dunno. It was okay. The person running it had some good tips, I guess.” 

Steve smiled at him. 

“Your happiness is infectious, Rogers,” Bucky said, taking a bite of his salad. 

“I try,” Steve said. “So you’re gonna go back?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” Bucky mused. “I’ll see how the one with Sam goes. Maybe I’ll do both. Can we still have pizza for dinner because I actually went?” 

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I don’t actually even like kale.” 

“What the fuck?” Bucky shouted, and ignored the glare from the woman at the table next to them. “We’ve been eating that shit for like two weeks!” 

Steve laughed so hard that he nearly fell out of his chair. “I thought it was lettuce when I bought it,” he gasped out. “I didn’t look at it carefully enough, and then you were so passionate about hating it – “ 

“Oh my god,” Bucky said. “We’re having pizza for the next two months. And you’re never going grocery shopping alone again. How the fuck do you mix those two up?” 

“Your language is deplorable,” the woman at the table next to them said.

“You’re deplorable, lady,” Bucky said, and Steve hastily gathered up their food and dragged Bucky out of there. 

He did end up dropping the first program he tried. As much as the therapist tried to stress that everyone has their own problems and some weren’t worse than others, Bucky couldn’t take another damn hour of this woman complaining about the hail that destroyed her garden. 

Sam had him transferred to another program specifically for vets, and that one worked out a lot better. Between that and his meetings with Sam himself, he felt… better. 

Not good, not great, but better. 

“Well?” Bucky asked. “What’s the verdict?” 

Steve looked up from his careful scrutiny of their budget. “We can do it. We can afford new furniture.” 

There was a relatively large furniture store down the street from them, so they headed there first. 

“Yes,” Bucky said, flopping down on a floral couch with lace trim. “This is perfect.” 

Steve stared at him. “For what? Our retirement?” 

“Yes. Look, with a pattern this ugly it won’t even show stains. You can spill all the coffee you want.” 

Steve frowned. “You’re the one who spilled beer on it last night.” 

“Because you made me laugh!” 

“I won’t apologize for being hilarious,” Steve said, already wandering away. He paused to stroke the arm of a beautiful dark leather couch, his face wistful. 

“Budget,” Bucky said, tugging him away. “Budget, budget, budget.” 

“Budget-smudget,” Steve muttered. “Ooh, what about that one?” 

He pointed to a living room set, with an armchair and coffee table and everything. They were cloth, so they wouldn’t be too expensive, and a neutral enough colour that they wouldn’t get destroyed too easily. 

Bucky found the price tag. “Hey, it’s not bad. We can afford this.” 

Steve backed up, staring at the set critically. “Sit down.” 

Bucky obediently sprawled out in the armchair. “It’s pretty fuckin’ comfy, actually.” 

Steve walked in a few more circles, the salesman came over, and within fifteen minutes, they were the proud owners of a new furniture set. 

“Okay, so the delivery charge,” the salesman said. “I can do the couch, chair, and loveseat for two hundred, but the coffee table’s gonna be an extra fifty.” 

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance. 

“We can carry it,” Bucky said. 

The salesman cast a doubtful glance at Bucky’s missing arm, and Bucky scowled. 

Ten minutes later, they carried the coffee table out of the store. 

Fifteen minutes later, they were both covered in sweat and breathing heavily. 

“This was a mistake,” Steve gasped out. “I have regrets.” 

Bucky was awkwardly balancing his end of the table on his shoulder. “It’s not that much further. Two blocks. We can do two blocks.” 

“Remember when I used to be in shape?” Steve asked. “What a time that was.” 

They made it another few metres before Steve shook his head. 

“I’m gonna drop it,” he said. “We gotta take a breather.” 

“Not yet! We can do it!” 

“Buck – “ Steve said, and dropped his end of the coffee table. 

To his credit, he kind of threw himself underneath it and caught it before it hit the ground. The result was Steve sitting on the sidewalk, his legs out in front of him, and his hands on the table like he was sitting down to dinner. 

Bucky lost it. He had to sit down too, he was laughing so hard. 

“Next time,” Steve said mournfully. “We fork over the fifty dollars. We just pay it.” 

“No way,” Bucky managed to say between gales of laughter. “If we’d done that, I wouldn’t have gotten this picture.” 

“Oh, fuck you,” Steve said. Bucky howled with laughter. 

They made it back to their apartment relatively unscathed. They set the coffee table down in front of the current ratty sofa. 

Steve stepped back and beamed proudly down at the coffee table. “I love this. This is great.” 

Bucky immediately sat down on it, and Steve squawked. “Bucky!” 

“What?” Bucky said. “If it can’t hold my weight, there’s no point in having it.” 

“I can’t watch this,” Steve said. He turned and headed into the kitchen. “What do you want for dinner?” 

“Anything other than kale,” Bucky called back. 

Steve was humming to himself as he pulled some food out of the fridge. Bucky listened to him and sat back, looking around their little apartment that finally, finally felt like home. 

He took a breath in, and it felt like he was getting fresh air for the first time in years. 

“I’m gonna make pasta,” Steve called. “Wanna help?” 

“Sure,” Bucky said, getting up off the table. “Be right there.” 

He headed into the kitchen with a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all your wonderful comments! I'm thinking about adding another chapter to this, even though this is where I originally planned on finishing it. I'm thinking of doing an epilogue of sorts, set a year from now. That type of thing. We'll see though! 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [here](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com)!


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